


Desperation is an Awkward Feeling

by lamentomori



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-07 07:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14076318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: Taichi isn't a matchmaker, he's an asshole who makes problems worse. Desperado's problem is Hiromu.





	1. Desperation is an Awkward Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know your life has taken a turn for the worse when Taichi is The Voice of Reason.

A crowded nightclub, a drink in his hand, and a warm body at his side. That’s the last thing he can remember. Now, he’s in a bed, an unfamiliar bed. The sun is streaming rudely in the window through the thin curtains. The bed is in a hotel room. The bed isn’t empty. The person in bed with him groans, and moves closer.

“Hmm…Naito, g’ba’asleep.” Desperado knows that voice, and knows the man that’s snuggling up to him. He stares down at Hiromu, and wonders how exactly he ended up here. He’s no idea what he’s done to end up in bed with what feels like a naked Hiromu Takahashi. He should get out of this bed, and away from Hiromu, who seems to think he’s Naito, which is information to be stored at the back of his mind in case he needs to bribe Hiromu, or maybe Naito himself. Hiromu snuggles some more, and instinct, which is a stupid thing to have, wraps his arm around Hiromu’s warm body, pulling him close. “Oh...not who I thought.” Hiromu laughs, and looks up at him. Desperado freezes, waiting to be recognised, and kicked out. He’s not. Hiromu just smiles, and starts kissing along his jaw. “I’m not complaining though, handsome.” He shifts, pushing Desperado to his back, and straddles his thighs. “You wanna go again?” Desperado stares at him, trying to remember what happened last night. Again implies there was an already. He feels like he should remember having sex with Hiromu. He has a feeling that having sex with Hiromu leaves a mark. Most things with Hiromu leave a mark.

“Um, sure?” He sounds far too uncertain, and Hiromu laughs at him. His hands settle on Hiromu’s waist, that stupid instinct kicking in again.  Hiromu laughs at him again. “Don’t fucking laugh at me.” He grabs a handful of Hiromu’s hair, and pulls him down. His eyes are lit up, a grin on his lips. Instinct kisses him. It’s not Desperado. He’s got more sense than to kiss this maniac. He’s a good kisser though.

“I’m _so_ sorry.” Hiromu smirks at him, breaking the kiss, and licks a stripe down Desperado’s chest, to his groin. “ _Maybe_ I can make you forgive my insolence.” His tongue rubs along Desperado’s cock. Instinct tangles a hand in Hiromu’s hair. He licks around the head, his tongue quick and teasing as it laps at the very tip of Desperado’s cock. Hiromu pulls back, licks his hand, and starts stroking Desperado. “How would be best to earn that forgiveness, hmm?” His cock is getting harder, as Hiromu is lazily caressing it with one finger. His eyes are making Desperado uncomfortably hot, his gaze is smouldering. Hiromu leans down to lick the head of his cock again. “Suck or fuck before we part ways forever?” He’s smirking, and Desperado is torn on being happy or annoyed that Hiromu seems to have no idea who he is without his mask. Does he have so little presence that someone he’s wrestled so many times can be so unaware of him? It’s annoying. He grabs Hiromu’s head by the hair, and forces his cock down his throat. A garbled moan escapes Hiromu. His eyes fall closed, and he seems perfectly content to be used like this. It just pisses him off more. He wants Hiromu’s attention, not his passive acceptance. It’s not like Hiromu at all. He’s nothing if not not passive.

“C’mere.” He pulls Hiromu up by his hair, and into a kiss that feels like a battle. _This_ is how bedding Hiromu should be. His hands are in Desperado’s hair, tugging sharply, writhing, struggling against the firm grip Desperado has taken on his body. With a sharp twist Hiromu pulls Desperado over him. His grin is all teeth, and lust.

“You gonna fuck me?” His fingers squeeze Desperado’s biceps, his tongue runs over his lips. Desperado rears back, and pins Hiromu to the bed with a hand on his chest. He looks mildly annoyed. Desperado touches his lips. Hiromu has pretty lips. “C’mon, handsome. Don’t you wanna fuck me again?” His voice is always slightly surprising, he looks like he should be high-pitched and sharp, not deep and smooth. “Lube should be on the table...c’mon, hurry up. I’ve got shit to do.” Hiromu nips at Desperado’s fingers, still looking annoyed. Desperado nods vaguely, the bus doesn’t leave for hours and LIJ are as unreliable about taking that bus as Suzuki-Gun. If Hiromu has stuff to do, it’s probably not official. Desperado grabs the lube, and hands it to Hiromu.

“Multitask. Blow me, and open yourself up.” He settles on his back, and using his hair again, guides Hiromu’s mouth to his cock. Hiromu shakes his head, dislodging Desperado’s hand.

“Lazy.” Hiromu’s wearing a mischievous smile, his tongue teasing the tip of Desperado’s cock. “Lazy.” He opens the lube bottle, and takes Desperado’s cock into his mouth. He’s suckling on the head, his tongue flickering over it. Desperado fidgets, watching Hiromu licking at his cock.

“This suits you.” Instinct takes over his voice, and his hand, which tangles in his hair, pressing against the curve of Hiromu’s skull. Hiromu’s eyes open to look up at him, and he takes Desperado’s cock entirely into his mouth. Desperado’s hand slides to the back of his head, holding him in place. “You better be opening yourself up.” Hiromu tries to pull back, and Desperado keeps him in place. He leans up a little, checking to make sure that Hiromu is fingering himself. He is, but it’s definitely not as thorough as he’ll need if he’s going to take Desperado, but that’s mostly Hiromu’s problem. He lets Hiromu up for air, and smirks as he almost immediately takes Desperado’s cock back in his mouth. He seems painfully focussed on getting Desperado off. Hiromu has given blowjobs before, something this good doesn’t come from anything but practice. It’s getting too much though, he doesn’t want to come down Hiromu’s throat. He doesn’t want to leave this encounter without actually fucking him. “Ride me.” Desperado tightens his hold on Hiromu’s hair. He looks up sharply, at once livid, content, and utterly passive.

“Lazy.” He snaps, and faster than Desperado was expecting, Hiromu buries his cock in his ass. “I bet you don’t get laid often, handsome, seeing as you’re so lazy.” Hiromu moves quickly. His body is tight, wonderfully tight. Desperado’s hips snap up into Hiromu, thrusting into him deeper. His hands grasp Hiromu’s hips tightly, pulling him down into each thrust. He moans, his fingers flexing on Desperado’s chest, his eyes focussed on Desperado’s. He’s never been happier that he wrestles wearing contacts. It reduces the chances of Hiromu being able to recognise him. The last thing he wants right now, balls deep in Hiromu’s ass, is to be recognised, and thrown out. One of Hiromu’s hands wraps around his cock, and he shifts his hips, changing the angle Desperado’s cock is entering him. “It’s a shame you’re so lazy.” Hiromu moans softly, his head tilts back, his hair falling away from his face. His eyes are half-lidded, smouldering, and dark. His hand is stroking his cock slowly, far slower than the movement of his body over Desperado’s cock. “So lazy…it’s a shame…it’s a good cock.” Hiromu’s body ripples around him, dragging a deep groan from Desperado’s throat.

“Lazy?” He chuckles, pushing Hiromu off. “Hands and knees.” Hiromu repositions himself as asked. He glances back at Desperado. “I’ll show you how lazy I am.” He smooths his hand over Hiromu’s ass, taking a cheek in each hand. He pulls them apart, and spits at Hiromu’s hole. He thrusts two of his fingers into him, stretching Hiromu’s hole open further. He pulls his fingers free, and yanks Hiromu back onto his cock. Hiromu groans, his head dropping to the bed. Desperado fucks him hard and fast. “Fucking lazy.” He leans over Hiromu’s back, and snarls in his ear. He bites at the lobe. “You gonna just take it?” Desperado licks the shell of Hiromu’s ear. “Lazy.” He chuckles, fucking Hiromu harder, with that taunt, Hiromu rocks back to meet Desperado’s thrusts. His head still bowed, his weight mostly resting on his forearms. “Touch yourself.” He bites Hiromu’s earlobe again, smirking when Hiromu shifts to comply with his order. “Good boy.” Desperado pulls away from him, settling back on his knees, taking in the sight of Hiromu’s broad back before him, and the shimmer of building sweat on his skin. It doesn’t matter that he knows this back, the whole body before him, it’s never been in this context before, never with his cock deep inside of it. It’s far easier to appreciate the beauty of Hiromu’s body when he’s fucking him.  He runs a hand up Hiromu’s spine, grabs a handful of hair, pulling his head back. Hiromu gasps, the one arm he was propping himself up with slips, leaving him all but dangling from Desperado’s grasp. He releases his cock, both of his hands scrambling to hold himself up. Desperado drops him. His chest falls to the bed, and he lets out a groan as he rights himself, glowering over his shoulder at Desperado.

“If you’re gonna fuck me, _fuck_ me.” Hiromu bows his head, rocking himself back and forth, fucking himself on Desperado’s cock. “Lazy.” He snaps once more, fucking himself faster. Desperado grabs his hips, and sets to trying to meet Hiromu’s demands. He fucks him hard, and fast, pulling him back into each thrust even further than Hiromu’s own movements. He’s not exactly loud, but not quiet either, instead he makes low, deep, gasping moans. It’s an unexpectedly pleasing soundtrack to this whole thing. If he’d ever thought about what Hiromu sounded like in bed, Desperado would have expected him to be one those loud, dirty talking types, not one to be making these libido-massaging moans.

“You gonna cum?” He doesn’t dare say Hiromu’s name, but it’s on the tip of his tongue. “You gonna cum for me, boy?” He leans over Hiromu’s back, bats his hand from his cock, and strokes it for him. “I bet you’re pretty when you cum.” Frim thrusts into him, fast strokes over his cock, Desperado is looking to get Hiromu to orgasm as quickly, and overwhelmingly as possible. Desperado pulls out, flips Hiromu over, and trails his hand down his heaving chest. His stare is blank, and not the infuriating blank look he gives from the other side of a ring. This is a blankness borne of his scrambled, overcome mind. He’s so close, so desperately close.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Hiromu chants softly. His whole body is flushed, like he’d just wrestled an hour. Desperado takes his cock in hand, and starts jacking him off. “Yes.” Hiromu’s back arches, his hips thrusting into Desperado’s grasp. He comes as Desperado would expect. A loud groan, a full body shudder, an arched back. His cum stands out starkly against his darkly flushed skin. He lies panting, staring up at Desperado. Desperado gets off the bed. He stands at the end, and pulls Hiromu down to the floor. He crumples bonelessly. Desperado backs him up against the end of the bed, using it to prop him up. He tangles a hand in Hiromu’s hair, with his other hand he jerks himself off, aiming the head of his cock at Hiromu’s face. Hiromu’s staring at him, his breathing is still heavy, he’s still not entirely come back to himself. He’s beautiful lost like this. Even more beautiful with Desperado’s cum on his face, and in his hair. For a moment they’re both still, and quiet. The bubble bursts as soon as Hiromu awkwardly staggers to his feet. “Thanks, handsome. Now fuck off.” Desperado stares at him. “Don’t steal anything.” Hiromu vanishes into the bathroom. Desperado sits on the end of the bed for a moment, and casts his gaze around looking for his clothes.

“Weird.” He mutters, as he pulls on his clothes. This whole thing has been weird. Hiromu’s a good fuck though, which is something he didn’t need to know, but he does, which is something. “Weird.”

The next time he and Hiromu face each other in the ring, he expects Hiromu to recognise him. He doesn’t. He barely acknowledges Desperado beyond what’s necessary. By the end of the match, Desperado is contemplating getting rid of his tassels, and maybe going to a hypnotherapist. He might be able to have those memories of Hiromu’s body against him suppressed. The whole match he’s fighting memories. He hopes that the match against Bushi and Hiromu isn’t too soon, or too long. He wants to beat the shit out of Bushi, and pretend that Hiromu doesn’t exist. After that he and Kanemaru will beat up Roppongi 3K again, and then whatever other team of cheats and morons comes next.

They have far too many matches against each other over the course of the tournament. Them being multi-man tag matches does not make it easier. It makes it worse, because it means he has to _watch_ Hiromu wrestle other people. He’s not jealous, or maybe he is. He’s no idea if he’s honest. He’s something. Unsettled, or utterly settled, but it’s settled on the wrong thing. He wants to fuck Hiromu again, but that’s a very difficult desire to fulfil. He also never wants to even have to see Hiromu again, which is equally a difficult desire to fulfil.

The single worst person to talk to about his _problem_ is exactly who he ends up with. He’s certain Taichi doesn’t mean to be the worst person in the world, but he is. He’s self-serving, self-indulgent, and as observant as a brick, until you actually want him to be as observant as a brick, then the awful bastard sees everything. He likes Taichi, he really does, but he’s literally the worst person in the world.

“So…Despy!” Taichi’s arm wraps around Desperado’s shoulders, and pulls him into a quiet corridor before he can get into the locker room as soon as his match is over. “Since when, and why do you want to fuck Hiromu?” He’s staring at Desperado with an expression halfway between horror and awe. Desperado slumps to the floor, cradling his head.

“Argh.” He groans. He wants to pull his mask off, and breathe unobstructed, but he’s not in the locker room, and he doesn’t trust Hiromu to not be wandering the halls causing minor chaos, whilst brandishing Naito’s stolen hat, an occurrence which has happened more than once in the last week. Even with knees as fucked up as his, Naito will still give chase to get his hat back, but as Zack said, he really does look cool in that hat, so Desperado can understand wanting to keep a hold of it.

“This doesn’t answer my question.” At least Taichi is wearing his street clothes, and not his trunks, because Desperado’s face is distressingly at groin level. Desperado groans pitifully. “When, where, how, and why? Because it is a terrible idea, regardless of how you answer, a _terrible_ idea.” Taichi saying something is a terrible idea is a sign it’s an idea up there with swimming, whilst wearing a meat suit, in a tank with starved sharks.

“You remember that match where he stole Kanemaru’s whisky...and we all went out, and…” Desperado trails off, his hands on the back of his head, he tugs at the tassels on the back of his mask. He can feel the echoes of both Naito and Hiromu’s hands in the them, yanking them back.

“You got drunk and fucked Naito’s pet?” Taichi barks a laugh, his face in his hands. “Oh fuck. That’s the best, worst thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughs again, his heads bowed as he cackles.

“He didn’t recognise me.” Desperado mutters, staring at the ground. “I wasn’t wearing my mask, he doesn’t know it was me.”

“Well, let’s hope it stays that way.” Taichi cackles again. “Go get dressed, and I’ll take you out to drown your sorrows.” Taichi claps him on the shoulder, wearing what is as close to a kind expression as Desperado has ever seen on his face. It makes him look weird.

They end up in a miserable, little bar. It’s dark, and the air is thick with smoke, testosterone, and cheap perfume. If Taichi were a place, this sleazy bar would be him. He orders two whiskies, and slides one over to Desperado. He’s not entirely comfortable being out in a skeezy bar, with the skeeziest person he knows, but he is, and he’s going to enjoy getting drunk with him. No doubt, he’ll pick up some skeezy woman, and they’ll have skeezy sex, and it’ll not shake the desire to fuck Hiromu again at all, but he’ll still enjoy it nonetheless.

“So!” Taichi knocks his whisky back, and grins at Desperado. “How drunk were you?” He actually sounds serious, incredibly serious, like this might be something he actually cares about.

“Very…drunk enough that I don’t remember the first time.” Desperado nudges the whisky glass away, he’s not sure drinking in this mood is a good idea.

“What!” Taichi looks scandalised, and takes the other glass of whisky, downing it. “You have fucked him, and it was more than once? Oh fuck…we should tell The Boss…”

“We should not!” Desperado flags the bartender over, and orders another two whiskies.

“Something good should come out of your death.” Taichi sips at this whisky, a dark scowl on his face. “Naito’s going to kill you when he finds out, we might as well let The Boss get something out of it.”

“Why is Naito going to kill me? What the fuck has any of this got to do with Naito?” Desperado downs his whisky; the bartender tops the glass up. The last thing he wants is to catch Naito’s attention. It’s bad enough that The Boss is trying to get it, Desperado doesn’t want it at all. The lazy, shitty-kneed asshole can get the crap beaten out of him by The Boss, just leave Desperado _well_ out of it.

“Because Hiromu is his precious little pet…” It’s easy to forget that once, _long_ ago, Taichi was friends with Naito. A terrible combination that must have been, the world’s worst human and the laziest being friends. It’s not something Desperado wants to think on too much. “Hiromu looked up to Naito like a god when most people were ready to trample him down to the ground.” Taichi sips at his whisky again. “He returns Hiromu’s admiration by protecting him as a good deity should.”

“He’s going to kill me.” Desperado downs his whisky. Taichi buys the bottle. Desperado could kiss him. This is a heavy realisation to come to, whisky will help.

“He might not…like you said, Hiromu doesn’t know it was you.” Taichi tops up Desperado’s glass, and takes a draw of a cigarette he’s acquired from somewhere.

“I want him to know it was me.” Desperado mutters. He downs another glass of whisky. He’s blurting out terrible things. At this rate he’ll be giving Taichi competition for the title of worst person ever. “I want to fuck him again.”

“Nope, _terrible_ idea.” Taichi laughs, finishes his glass, and fills both of the empties up again. “The stupidest thing you can do is fuck him again.” Taichi shakes his head. “Fucking idiot…people say I’m an idiot. At least I’m not trying to fuck Naito’s little disciple.”

“I did fuck him…I fucked him twice, and came on his face.” Desperado has had too much to drink already. Confessing facials to Taichi is not normal behaviour, evidenced by the slightly shocked expression on Taichi’s face. It does feel pretty good to shock Taichi though. He’s always so observant about matters you don’t want him to be.

“Is he a good fuck? I always thought he had to be to keep Naito’s attention for so long.” Taichi takes a long drag on his cigarette, his gaze slowly passing over the bar, looking for some company to distract from this very stupid and dangerous line of conversation.

“I can attest that Naito has good reason to kill me, if nothing else.” Desperado smirks, and Taichi barks a laugh.

“Well…” Taichi raises his glass, “to dying for a good fuck.” Desperado clinks his glass against Taichi’s. He should drink less whisky. It's to blame for all of this.

“I’d prefer not dying.” Desperado downs his drink. Taichi flags some gaudy looking women over. Desperado settles into enjoying his expected skeezy night.

He doesn’t end up taking a girl back, he’s genuinely no idea if Taichi did or didn’t. He imagines that he didn’t, but one can never tell with Taichi. He is the world’s worst person after all. Desperado ends up lying flat on his back in his cheap hotel room, staring at the ceiling, contemplating the upcoming title match he and Kanemaru have against Bushi and Hiromu. He makes a slightly complaining post on Twitter, slightly complaining about his inability to sleep, and about his opponents. Once it’s up, he sinks into a slight doze. The notification of a response from Hiromu to his tweet is utterly unexpected. For a second, he hesitates, but it’ll be okay, what’s the worst Hiromu can come up with.

 _Lullaby for El Desperado_.

His worst is impressive. His worst is that deep voice of his singing to him. His worst has him jerking off to memories of a morning after a night he can’t really remember. His worst is enough to leave Desperado wondering if Naito really would kill him if he fucked Hiromu again.


	2. Desperation is for Other People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half of the deal is done, and it's up to Hiromu to settle the other half.

Taichi is an awful man. If Hiromu believed in making the same point twice he’d fuck Taichi again. He doesn’t like repeating himself though. He makes points once, loudly, firmly, definitively. He has made the point that Taichi is awful to him. It hadn’t changed much of anything, and Taichi is still awful. He’d agreed to give Naito a key to his shitty boss’s shitty room on one shitty condition, like Hiromu wasn’t proposing something that was beneficial to them both. He can see as well as anyone that Naito confounds Suzuki, and that Suzuki does not like being confounded. Not liking something makes Suzuki grumpy, and a grumpy Suzuki makes the whole army unhappy. Hiromu was proposing a wonderful deal for them both. Yet, Taichi _still_ had the audacity to impose conditions on that most excellent deal.

Taichi is a problem for another day. He owes Hiromu something for this bad deal, but he’ll think on what he wants some other time. Now he needs to get Naito to his hotel room. His encounter with Suzuki has left him soft and sleepy, wearing a content smile. It’s a smile Hiromu’s not seen in a long time, and it _almost_ stings. He understands though. As much as he loves Naito, and he loves him most out of everyone, not even Naito is the _only_ person Hiromu needs. Naito is almost everything, but sometimes he needs something else. He supposes it’s the same thing Naito needs from Suzuki. They can’t be harsh with each other, and sometimes they both need a heavier hand. Hiromu chuckles to himself. It’s stupid how much he has become Naito’s over the years. He doesn’t really mind being called Naito’s pet, because he is. He is Naito’s overly indulged, overly protected, _spoiled_ little pet. They say pets and their owners come to resemble each other, and in terms of who he’s become, he is undeniably Naito’s.

Naito’s not moved his hand from the back of Hiromu’s neck since they left the room. It might look like Naito is keeping hold of him, or guiding him, but really Hiromu is leading the way. It’s an illusion that they play often. Naito has very little control when it comes to him, and Hiromu knows that better than anyone, Naito included. His fingers are flexing on Hiromu’s neck, caressing his skin. It’s a slow, soothing gesture that’s drained Hiromu of almost all the energy and confidence he’d built up to go fetch Naito from Suzuki’s room. The message from Naito’s phone, that was clearly from Suzuki, had been a surprise, and had genuinely horrified Hiromu. His mind had raced about what Suzuki might have done to his beloved Naito that would leave him needing fetched. It’d been a relief to see that all that had happened was that Naito was himself, albeit a sleepy, contented version of himself.

“You okay?” Hiromu glances over at Naito, as he summons the elevator. Naito’s fingers flutter on his neck, and he presses himself to Hiromu’s side.

“I’m good.” Naito kisses the side of his head. “Thank you.” Another kiss, and Hiromu can feel himself puff up with pride. The elevator doors open. The man who operates the elevator looks at them blankly. Hiromu offers him a grin, and he stares nervously at the panel, shooting Hiromu furtive glances, his fingers hovering over the buttons.

“What floor?” He asks nervously, and Naito pushes the right button, ignoring the man. Naito’s hand then slips around the back of Hiromu’s head, his fingers flex on his scalp. Hiromu closes his eyes, and leans into the gentle gesture. He loves these rare public gentle touches from Naito.

“You coming to bed?” Naito leans against him. The scent of Suzuki is clinging to him. It’s annoying, but Hiromu isn’t in any position to judge. Naito has endured him coming to him smelling of other people a thousand times. Hiromu twists, and nuzzles against Naito’s neck. Naito lifts his chin, letting Hiromu lap at the little spot that makes him whimper. “Come to bed.” Naito nips at his ear, his hands settle on Hiromu’s waist. “C’mon.” Hiromu shakes his head, and steps away from Naito. He looks a little putout, and makes a grab for Hiromu’s hands, but misses.

“I _told_ you. I don’t have time to tuck you in, Naito.” His best, most innocent smile on his face. Naito isn’t convinced by it. He catches hold of one of Hiromu’s wrists, and pulls him in close. Sated Naito is _always_ snuggly. It’s a little known, closely guarded secret, like so many others that are carefully entrusted to Hiromu. “I don’t have time for this, Naito.” Hiromu pushes at his shoulders, but it’s half-hearted. As much as he doesn’t like the smell of Suzuki clinging to Naito, he does like Naito’s arms around him, and his solid weight against him. The elevator dings. The operator looks at them anxiously. Naito’s hand tightens around his wrist, dragging him out of the elevator.

“Make time for me.” He backs Hiromu up against a wall, and nips at Hiromu’s jaw. Snuggly, nippy, sweet Naito is a wonderful incarnation of Naito, but Hiromu really has to make good on his side of the _deal_. “C’mon, Hiro.” Naito murmurs in his ear, smiling at the shiver that runs through Hiromu. His head falls back against the wall, letting Naito nip at his throat. It’s cheating, Naito knows his neck is his weakest point. Hiromu takes a hold of Naito’s hair, and tugs. Naito pulls back, and frowns at him.

“I told you, I don’t have time to tuck you in.” Hiromu slips away, and grabs Naito’s arm. “I will though…c’mon.” He drags Naito to his room. Naito takes his shoes off, then his pants and shirt. “Bed.” Hiromu pushes at his chest, but Naito catches Hiromu’s hand, drags him down to the bed, and holds him close to his chest, his lips against Hiromu’s hair.

“You made a deal for that key with Taichi, didn’t you?” His voice is low, a deeper murmur that speaks to Hiromu’s soul. He’s always loved that voice. It’s the voice Naito talked him through their first time together in, the voice that always talks him down or up, the voice that never fails to make him happy.

“Hmm.” Hiromu doesn’t offer any more information than that. Naito’s concern with Hiromu’s deal with Taichi ended the moment he took the key. This part of the deal is Hiromu’s problem. Naito sighs, and kisses Hiromu’s hair.

“When you’re done, come to bed.” Naito lets him go. Hiromu doesn’t bother answering, avoiding the fact that for a change, he’s little intention of coming back to share a bed with Naito. He looks content to sleep with the scent of Suzuki clinging to him. Hiromu knows well how much better sleep is when you’re bathed in the scent of what you desire most. Naito yawns, and gives Hiromu the sort of smile most people would deny Naito was capable of, but that’s because most people only know him as a lackadaisical, sardonic, mean asshole. As far as Hiromu is concerned, Naito is as far from those things as possible. At his worst he’s teasing, but he teases with the mildest of jokes, not the poisoned barbs Hiromu’s faced from others over the years. Naito could destroy Hiromu easily, he knows him so well, but he never does. He is, as Hiromu is for him, Hiromu’s loudest and keenest supporter. Drunk Hiromu, who sober Hiromu disapproves of, had stated that the reason Naito knows him so well is because they were soulmates. Drunk Hiromu had gone on to say that this was probably the thousandth time they’ve found each other, so it should be no surprise that they know each other inside out and back to front. Sober Hiromu dislikes drunk Hiromu, Naito, however, is very fond of drunk Hiromu, and thinks he’s right. Hiromu kisses Naito’s lips softly, and pulls away from him, clambering off the bed.

“Sleep well!” Hiromu calls over his shoulder as he heads for the door. Naito throws a pillow at him.

The elevator guy looks horrified to see him again. Hiromu rolls his eyes, and presses the eight button. Suzuki-gun are on the eighth floor, Los Ingos are on the second floor. He’s sure there’s no hidden meaning behind that. It’s just how things turned out. Nothing to do with Suzuki and his army being higher in the pecking order or LIJ being too cheap to pay for nicer rooms.

He hates making the same point twice. He hates fucking the same person twice, apart from Naito, who is exempt from most standards Hiromu holds the rest of the world to, but he is here to fuck the same person again.

Hiromu takes a breath, and knocks on the door. He’s not happy about this, but he is here for a reason. He is here to finish the deal. It opens slowly. The man on the other side is staring at him blankly. His mask looks like it was pulled on hurriedly, strands of long, blond hair are poking out of the mouth cut-out.

“I…Hir…Takahashi?” He sounds uncertain, and deeply uncomfortable. Hiromu has no idea how he’s going to play this. He’s no idea if Taichi has told him that Hiromu was coming, or if he’s told Desperado that Hiromu knows they’ve had sex before. Based on how flustered Desperado looks, he knows nothing. It doesn’t make Hiromu’s decision on how to act any easier.

“Have you spoken to Taichi?” Hiromu bites his bottom lip, ducks his head a little, and looks up at Desperado. Desperado stares at him blankly, his fingers twitching, his eyes focused on Hiromu’s lips. That makes his decision for getting into the room. “He and I made a deal.” Hiromu bows his head a little more, his hair falling over his face.

“A deal?” Desperado folds his arms over his chest, trying to cover the fact he was clearly in the process of reaching out to move Hiromu’s hair from his eyes.

“You must have noticed your boss and…” Hiromu glances up the corridor, in the direction of Suzuki’s room. Desperado leans out the door, looking up to his boss’s room door.

“Naito?” He asks, and Hiromu nods quickly, his head still bowed, watching Desperado, watching to see how he’ll react to this innocent act. He seems flustered by it, his hands up in his armpits like he’s trying to stop himself from touching Hiromu, his gaze darting away from Hiromu quickly every time it rests on him. “Why are you here?”

“We made a deal.” Hiromu looks down at the floor. Desperado sucks air through his teeth.

“You don’t…” His hand slips through Hiromu’s hair to cup his face, and tilt it up towards him. His eyes flicker over Hiromu’s face, once more lingering on his lips. His thumb smooths over Hiromu’s eyebrow, his tongue runs over his lips.

“We made a deal.” Hiromu repeats. He keeps his expression blank, wondering if Desperado will turn him away, so he can get out of having to fulfil the deal with Taichi, and out of having to have sex with Desperado again. It wasn’t bad, in fact it was very good, but he’s had sex with Desperado. Doing it again would be a repeat, and he doesn’t like repeats. He makes bad choices with repeats. He ends up with the Dragon Lee situation with repeats. Not that that’s a bad thing, it’s just a thing that Naito doesn’t like, because it’s someone who isn’t Naito who could have Hiromu whenever they want. Naito isn’t possessive so much as protective. He keeps Hiromu’s heart nice and safe, or as safe as Naito can keep it, he’s clumsy sometimes.

“What…” Desperado croaks, and then clears his throat. “What is this deal?”

“Let me in.” Hiromu makes enough of a show of trying to pull away, for Desperado to draw him closer, and into the room. Cute and innocent isn’t something Hiromu can play at for long. The moment Desperado closes the door, he strides further into the hotel room, rolling his shoulders, and tossing his coat onto the chair by the lamp. It looks like Suzuki’s room, right down to the tall lamp by the chair, and the dresser on the other side of the room. “So, you wanna know what the deal is, handsome?” At that Desperado’s mouth flaps soundlessly. Hiromu can’t help but laugh at him. “The deal,” he pulls his shirt over his head, and stalks up to Desperado, shedding his pants on his way, pinning him to the door with a single hand on his broad chest. “Is that you get one more fuck. I already told him you got two, but he insisted you needed another.” Desperado’s eyes widen behind the mask. “I told him two were enough, but…” Hiromu uses a finger to slide the stray strands of hair poking out of the mouth cut-out to the side. “He insisted. You should thank him…he’s a good friend.” He presses a kiss to Desperado’s lips. A tiny kiss that draws an amusing little noise from him. “So, here I am.” Desperado stares at him blankly. Nothing happens. Taichi isn’t wrong, Desperado definitely wants him, but he’s hesitating. Nervous or in denial.

“I don’t…I…” He’s fumbling for something worth saying. Hiromu rolls his eyes, and sinks to his knees to nuzzle at Desperado’s groin. Desperado makes a startled noise. His hands tangle in Hiromu’s hair. “Takahashi.” Hiromu rubs his cheek against Desperado’s groin again. Desperado tugs on Hiromu’s hair, pulling him away from his groin. Hiromu raises up to his feet, and kisses him, or at least tries to, Desperado’s hands clamp onto his shoulders, holding him away. “What the fuck, Takahashi?”

“Taichi was wrong?” Hiromu puts on a show of sounding hurt and confused as he starts gathering his clothes. “Sorry.” He shrugs, acting with the intention of getting dressed again, wondering if Desperado will actually admit to wanting him, or if he’ll get to leave and get a room of his own from the front desk. Desperado is staring at him. His mask is askew. His fists, and jaw, are clenched. Hiromu, clothes in a pile beside him, sits on the bed, watching Desperado thoughtfully. He could play this so many ways. He could get dressed and leave, he’d tried to uphold his end of the deal, so Taichi wouldn’t be able to complain. He could go over and kiss Desperado again, initiate things between them, but that would send the wrong message. He’s not looking for anything but this to be over. Or, he could sit on the bed, waiting to see if Desperado will stop staring at his collarbone, and do something.

“No.” Desperado crosses the room in two strides, and shoves Hiromu flat back on the bed. “Taichi’s the worst.” He kicks Hiromu’s legs apart, and stands between them. “But, he isn’t wrong.” A single finger traces over Hiromu’s lips. “I want to fuck you.” Hiromu stares at him, Desperado still can’t meet his gaze. Either nervousness, embarrassment, or distraction. His eyes are flickering over Hiromu’s body, coming no further up his face than his lips. Distraction definitely, with a hint of embarrassment.

“How do you want me then?” Hiromu squirms, not uncomfortable, but not happy. This feels like stalling, like Desperado is trying to put it off. He’s here to be fucked, not petted. If he wanted petting and snuggling, which he does, he’d have stayed with Naito, which he would have liked, but Naito doesn’t need him right now, Naito needs sleep and maybe another visit to Suzuki. So, Hiromu is here fulfilling the deal, nothing more.

“Stay there.” Desperado stays staring down at him, not moving, watching to see what Hiromu will do. Hiromu watches him back. He has no problem with letting Desperado think he’s in charge. It’s nothing to pretend that he’s softly passive. When necessary, he’ll assert his control, until then he’ll be Desperado’s plaything. Desperado stands up, and undoes his pants. His hands reach up to his mask, hesitating.

“You’re not going to hide behind that mask are you, handsome.” Hiromu can’t help but tease him. Desperado lips press into a thin line. He turns to the mirror over the dresser to adjust his mask, tightening the strings. “How mean. Why would you deny me the view, hmm?” Hiromu stretches his arms out, touching the sides of the bed. It is mean, Desperado is a handsome man behind that mask, but it seems to be the way of masked men in NJPW. They tend to be more handsome than you’d think.  Desperado doesn’t turn around, he pulls his shirt over his head, and tosses a small bottle of lotion over his shoulder. “Seriously? You have nothing better than this?” Hiromu sits up, and scowls at the bottle. He’s not willing to take Desperados cock with nothing but this lotion to help. Desperado shrugs, and turns to look at Hiromu. He’s absently stroking his cock. “You’re not fucking me with nothing more than that.” Desperado smirks at him, and grabs Hiromu’s ankle. He pulls him down the bed, his feet on the floor. Desperado drops to his knees, and nips at Hiromu’s inner thigh. The edges of his mask scrape against Hiromu’s skin, dragging keening whines from him. His hands skim over the leather of the mask, catching the tassels on the back of it.

“Your deal with Taichi is that I get to fuck you, right?” Desperado nips Hiromu’s other thigh, then licks a stripe up from his knee to the crease where his leg meets his body. Hiromu moans as Desperado licks down the other side. His thighs are sensitive, and Desperado is taking advantage of that. Soft nips, and long licks, hands massaging his calves. His mind wanders to the first time Naito pulled him half off a bed like this. It was the first time Naito rimmed him. It’d left him whimpering, and clawing at the comforter. If Desperado rims him now, he’ll be delighted. Desperado smiles at him, his hands run up and down his legs. “I’m going to make good on that deal.” He takes Hiromu’s cock in his hand, stroking him roughly. “I’m going to fuck you as hard as I want.” His tongue flickers over his lips. “I’m going to fuck you out of my system.”

“I’m in your head, huh?” Hiromu laughs at Desperado’s muttered dark tone. He’s not very good at being intimidating, despite the mask and size, it feels like the posturing of a child. If Hiromu’s temper was raised even a little, he’s sure Desperado would shrink from him, most people do, apart from his brothers and Naito. His brothers laugh at him, and Naito will drag him off to a quiet corner to either let him vent or to soothe him with gentle touches and soft kisses. Desperado nips at his inner thigh again, dragging his attention back to him. Hiromu’s laugh fades into a moan. Desperado smirks at him, his hand moving slowly over Hiromu’s cock.

“In my head, maybe, but I’m gonna be in your ass.” Desperado licks the tip of Hiromu’s cock. He taps his fingers against Hiromu’s lips. “Get them wet.” Hiromu’s eyes narrow, and he nips at Desperado’s fingers. He takes them deeper, lapping at them, getting them as wet as he can. Desperado isn’t particularly good at sucking cock, too much teeth, and not enough depth. He pulls his fingers from Hiromu’s mouth, and taps one against Hiromu’s ass. It pushes more firmly against his hole. Hiromu’s head falls back against the bed, his teeth are gritted. He didn’t wet Desperado’s fingers enough.

“Wait, _wait_.” Hiromu scrabbles at Desperado’s shoulders. “I’m not…” He gropes around the bed for the lotion bottle. Even thin body lotion is better than spit. “Please.” He taps the bottle off Desperado’s shoulder. Desperado takes the bottle from him. The lotion that hits Hiromu’s asshole is too cold, and slides down past his hole. Desperado drives his finger inside him. Hiromu gasps, his eyebrows knit.

“That good?” Desperado smiles slightly, and rises up Hiromu’s body, and kisses him. He’s sure that the first time was better. The morning after had been forceful, but enjoyable, nothing like this. It feels like Desperado is trying to prove something to him, but he’s not sure what. Maybe he really thinks that this will get Hiromu out of his system. Hiromu will be out of Desperado’s system when Hiromu decides he’s finished with him, not a moment before, and while he’s free to try to remove Hiromu from his head, it’s annoying, and he should stop.  

“Honestly?” Hiromu squirms, trying to change the angle of Desperado’s finger inside him. He genuinely looks interested, like he wants Hiromu’s honest answer. It’s almost pathetic, but mostly kind of adorable. “No.” Desperado’s eyes widen behind his mask. “More lotion, and a little deeper.” Desperado immediately pulls his finger out, and recoats it, sliding it into Hiromu once more. “Ah, there.” Desperado has moved his finger to press against his prostate. A smile spreads over Desperado’s lips as he works that little spot inside him, drawing more purring moans from Hiromu. He pulls his finger out, adds more lotion, and works two fingers inside Hiromu, spreading them, stretching him open. This feels better, this feels good.

“Like this?” Desperado’s watching him, staring down intensely. Whatever point he was trying to make has been forgotten, he seems much more focussed on making this feel good, which pleases Hiromu, but it feels a little off from the goal he’d come here with. He doesn’t want to leave this room with Desperado still wanting him. “One more.” A third finger has Hiromu’s breath catching, hissing through his teeth. Desperado makes a grab for the lotion, pulls his fingers out, and rolls the bottle between his hands. “You like it slow and soft, hmm?” He’s not looking at Hiromu, he’s staring down at the bottle in his hands. It looks like his eyebrows are drawn, it’s hard to tell with mask in the way.

“Yeah.” Hiromu reaches out, catching Desperado’s chin to tilt his face up. “You wanna get me out of your head, and put yourself in mine.” Hiromu strokes his thumb over his bottom lip. “I like it slow. I like it soft. I like it deep. Pick me apart, and maybe I’ll pay attention to you.” Teasing like this isn’t going to help Desperado get over this want to fuck him. He should stop it.

“I’ll make you pay attention to me.” He nips at Hiromu’s thumb. It’s a lofty promise. A promise that only two people have ever fulfilled, and only one continues to fulfil, probably at the expense of the other. Naito is greedy when it comes to Hiromu’s attention. He’ll permit short, intense distractions, but ultimately, he wants Hiromu in his corner and at his side, no outside interference. Desperado moves up, and draws Hiromu into a kiss, cradling Hiromu’s head gently as he kisses him. Desperado breaks the kiss to pet Hiromu’s hair back from his face. The edges of his mask made it a far more uncomfortable kiss than it should have been.

“Take this off.” Hiromu taps his fingers over the mask, flicking at the wings on the side. Desperado catches his wrists. “C’mon, take it off.” Hiromu tugs against Desperado’s grasp. It tightens, grinding the bones of his wrists together.

“No, it stays.” He drops Hiromu’s right wrist, and sits back keeping a hold of Hiromu’s left. He turns it over, trailing his finger down the thick scar on it. “How did you get this?” It’s none of his business. He’s pretty sure the only person who knows the story behind the ugly damn thing is Naito. Desperado’s fingernail traces along the edges of the scar, on the unmarked flesh, where it’s a little more sensitive. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Hiromu isn’t fond of sharing personal information. The scar is what it is, a scar, nothing more, nothing less.  Desperado looks up at him. He raises Hiromu’s wrist, and presses a kiss to the scar.

“Good.” He releases Hiromu’s wrist, and leans down over him, his hands slipping under Hiromu’s shoulder blades, kissing him again. “Did it hurt?”

“What?” For a second Hiromu isn’t sure what he’s being asked, the edges of Desperado’s mask did dig into him in uncomfortable ways, but it didn’t hurt. Almost as soon as the thought occurred to him, he knew Desperado was _still_ talking about the scar. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re avoiding giving me an answer.” Desperado pulls away from him. He flops over onto his back, and pulls Hiromu over him. “That’s okay…I don’t want you to talk to me.” A hand slides into his hair, and pulls him down into a kiss. “Blow me.” The hand in his hair tightens, drawing him down to Desperado’s cock. He takes the head into his mouth, sucking on it, ignoring Desperado’s urgings to take him deeper. He knows what he’s doing with this, Desperado can forget it if he thinks that he’s going to direct him. Desperado’s nails scratch at Hiromu’s scalp. A whine escapes Desperado as Hiromu laps and suckles at the head of his cock. He’s good at this. Naito has taught him in this as well as he taught wrestling. He looks up at Desperado, unable to catch his eyes behind the mask, which is annoying, but he’ll endure. He bobs his head down, taking the length of Desperado’s cock as deep as he can without trying, not the whole thing, but enough to make Desperado fall back against the bed.  He groans as Hiromu raises back up, and sinks back down. Slow, almost lazy movements that have Desperado scrabbling at his head, trying to speed Hiromu up. His demands, or maybe encouragements, are ignored. Hiromu finally takes the whole length into his mouth, although it was agonisingly slow, his tongue flat against the vein of Desperado’s cock, then back up to flick over the head, dabbing at the weeping tip. Desperado’s fist thumps off the bed, a keening whine at the pace Hiromu has set. He cups Desperado’s balls, rolling them. He lifts his head, letting Desperado’s cock fall from his mouth. A hand rests on the back of his head. “Don’t stop…don’t stop.” Hiromu runs a finger down his cock.

“Don’t stop, hmm?” He licks his lips, not bothering to look at the mask. He flicks his hair out of his eyes, and considers the cock in front of him. His hand warps around Desperado’s cock, stroking it lazily. “You want to come in my mouth?” Hiromu swipes a little pre-cum from the head of Desperado’s cock, and wipes it over his bottom lip. “You want me to just kneel here, and let you fuck my mouth?” Desperado sits up a little, staring at him intently. “You want to bend me over the bed, and fuck me like that?” Hiromu licks Desperado’s dick from root to tip. “You want me to ride you? Hmm?” He sucks the head.

“Don’t stop.” Desperado thrusts his hips up. “I don’t know how I want you…lemme think while you suck me.” Desperado’s voice is wispy, and desperate. Hiromu rolls his eyes, and returns to sucking him. A steady pace, up and down, up and down, tongue flat against the vein, dancing over the head, up and down. It’s easy to let his mind wander, what might have happened in that room with Suzuki and Naito, are Sanada and Evil still in that club, has Bushi sneaked away and returned to the hotel, has Taichi drunk himself unconscious. Desperado’s hand tangles in his hair, holding him still. Hiromu stares up at Desperado. His cock slips from Hiromu’s mouth. He licks his lips, and waits. Desperado draws him up, kisses him, stroking his back. He breaks the kiss, and rests his chin on Desperado’s chest. A finger moves his hair from his eyes. “I decided…on your back.” Desperado pulls him down into another kiss. Hiromu breaks the kiss again, and rolls over to lie on his back. Desperado lies beside him for a moment, like he’s hesitating. There’s no reason to hesitate, they’ve long established why Hiromu’s here. Honestly, he’s tired, and wants Desperado to hurry up, so he can find a bed and sleep. He’d promised to make Hiromu pay attention to him, to force his mind to be focussed solely on him, and he’s failing. Desperado settles between Hiromu’s thighs. His eyes narrow behind his mask.

“Take it off.” Hiromu reaches up to him, and tugs on the tassels. “I want to see your face, Despy.” Desperado snorts at the shortening of his name, bows his head, letting Hiromu unlace the mask. With little preamble, Hiromu pulls the mask off. He’d almost forgotten how handsome Desperado is behind the mask. It’s ridiculous how handsome the men in masks he knows are behind the collection of fabric that covers their faces. “There…much better.” Hiromu bops the tip of his nose, earning an annoyed frown from Desperado. “Naito doesn’t like that much either…never stops him doing it to me though.” Hiromu bops his nose again, and laughs when Desperado grabs his wrist, and throws his arm to the bed.

“Don’t compare me to your piece of shit boss.” He sneers, his gaze casting about the bed, looking for the bottle of lotion. Hiromu rolls his eyes, and stretches out, his arms reaching the sides of the bed, his legs splaying wide. Desperado sets the lotion bottle on Hiromu’s stomach, and stares at him. His hand takes Hiromu’s cock in his hand, stroking it slowly. “How do you like it? Slow and soft here, too?” He licks his palm, stroking Hiromu, slowly teasing him to hardness. “You’re a cat, you know that?” Hiromu snorts dismissively at him. “You are!” He laughs, and trails his free hand down Hiromu’s chest. “Soft and slow…too hard or too rough, and I bet you bite.” He does. Suzuki can attest to that.

“I’m not a cat.” He’s not. He doesn’t land on his feet enough for that to be true. Desperado leans over him, his lips at Hiromu’s ear.

“I bet if I scratch in the right place, I can make you purr.” His tongue runs along the shell of Hiromu’s ear. “Where’s your sweet spot, hmm?” He laps down Hiromu’s neck, and round to his throat. A quiet moan escapes him. Desperado laughs softly. “Here?” Another lick to his throat, over his adam’s apple, another little moan. “Yeah…here.” This time he sucks on the spot, his tongue flickering over it, drawing a low deep moan from Hiromu. He sits back with a smirk, his fingers run over the spot. “I told you I’d make you purr.” He takes the bottle of lotion up, and rubs it between his hands. He pours a trickle onto his hands, coating his fingers. “Slow…” He slides a finger inside Hiromu, working his prostate. “And soft, right?” A second finger inside him, stretching him open. The fingers move in and out slowly. Then are gone. More lotion, one finger, two, then three. The noise Hiromu makes is quietly embarrassing, and summons a pleased smile to Desperado’s lips. He leans over Hiromu, licking at his throat again. “Beneath all the bluster, you’re a quiet little thing, aren’t you?” A frim rub inside him, a lap to that spot on his throat, another deep moan. This is doing nothing to solve the Desperado problem. When Naito needs another key, he won’t take the initiative and call Suzuki, Hiromu knows that, he’s going to have to do this again. Fucking someone twice is bad, but a third time is utterly unacceptable. He needs to do something to make this incident something Desperado isn’t going to want to repeat. He doesn’t need Taichi having something to barter. He needs something to hold over Taichi instead, but Desperado laps at this throat again, dragging another deep moan from him.

“Enough.” He tugs at Desperado’s hair, pulls his head back. “You’ve stalled enough, just fuck me.” Hiromu tugs his hair again. Desperado stares at him for a moment, and then thrusts into him with one sharp snap of his hips. Hiromu’s back arches, his breath catches in his throat. He can feel Desperado staring at him, but he ignores it, presses his head back against the pillow, and closes his eyes. He needs to be unaffected. Letting Desperado please him was clearly the wrong plan, Desperado enjoyed it too much, so he’ll just lie here, blank and unaffected. He stares up at the ceiling, ignoring the slow, careful movements of Desperado’s cock inside him. Desperado leans over him, and laps at Hiromu’s throat again. He thinks of being in the ring. He thinks of being thrown on his back from the top rope. He thinks about his first few weeks in the dojo. Anything to keep his face blank, and his body still. Desperado wraps his hand around Hiormu’s cock, stroking him slowly. He changes the angle of his movement inside Hiromu, nudging his prostate, making it harder to maintain his blank face.

“Wrong?” Desperado looks at him, and tilts his hips a little more, butting his prostate harder. A reluctant little noise escapes him. “Like this?” He laps at Hiromu’s throat again. He bites his lip rather than make another desperate noise. Desperado suckles at his throat, and presses against that spot inside him again. A pitiful squeak of a moan. “Like this.” Desperado keeps taking him like that, his body betrays him, and has him reduced to clinging to Desperado. His hands uselessly paw at Desperado’s thick shoulders, trying to think of anything but him. He’s fulfilling his promise to make Hiromu pay attention to him, something Hiromu’s not sure he’s unhappy about. He moves slow, but firm, driving into Hiromu, making him moan and whine, scrabbling at Desperado’s back. “Touch yourself.” He murmurs in Hiromu’s ear. He nips at Hiromu’s earlobe, and trails his tongue down Hiromu’s neck. “Cum for me.” He speeds up just a little, taking Hiromu’s words about liking it slow, soft and deep to heart. Hiromu turns his face away from Desperado, rubbing his cheek against the pillow, his eyes closed tightly. If he doesn’t look, maybe he’ll be less affected. “Look at me.” A sharp nip to his ear. “Look at me.” A hard thrust into him, and sharp nip to the side of his neck.

“Don’t mark me.” Hiromu snaps, scratching at Desperado’s shoulders. Desperado’s hands slide under his shoulders. He pulls out, and flips them over, holding Hiromu over him. Hiromu reaches behind him, and guides Desperado’s cock back inside him. He rears back, rests on his knees, riding far quicker than Desperado had been fucking him. Slow may be Hiromu’s preference, but this isn’t supposed to be about him. It’s supposed to be about letting Desperado fuck him in a useless attempt to get him out of his system. It’s probably not been working all that well really, even without all of Hiromu’s miscalculations. Desperado catches a hold of his hips.

“Slow down, Hiromu.” Desperado reaches one hand up to cup Hiromu’s cheek. “Slow, and soft…isn’t that what you told me?” His hand moves to the back of Hiromu’s head, guiding him down into a kiss. His hips rock up into Hiromu. “ _Slow_.” He murmurs as he breaks the kiss. Hiromu falls into line with those slow movements up into him. He’s panting pathetically. Slow, almost to the point of laziness, deep, almost to the point of pain, soft, almost to the point being unnoticed. It’s almost as good as it is with Naito, _almost_ , but it’s always almost. He makes a quiet, desperate noise. Desperado kisses him again, and slips a hand between them, taking a hold of Hiromu’s cock. The thrusts into him are distractingly good, the grip on his cock a little too light, but it’s enough to unravel him. He can feel his orgasm hovering just out of reach.

“Harder.” He’s panting, weakly demanding, basically begging for his release. Desperado makes a deep rumble of noise, and speeds up, fucking him a little harder, stroking him a little faster, bringing him closer, and closer to the edge.

“Cum for me.” Desperado kisses the side of his head, his thrusts harder, his strokes faster still. Hiromu cums for him. He’s always a little floaty after he’s cum, a little hazy and soft. Desperado pulls out of him, and eases him to his back. A finger trails down his nose, and over his lips. He stares up at Desperado, willing his face to look hard and blank, but he knows that he’ll look all soft and cute. Naito’s told him he does _so_ many times. Desperado eases back inside him, fucking him hard and fast. He’s hunting his own end, talking to Hiromu, something low and rumbling, something that drifts through his mind like a quiet breeze. Desperado cums inside him, his hips thrusting shallowly. He pulls Hiromu as close as he can. He’s murmuring something to him, something quiet and soft, something soothing and gentle. He has done a terrible job of placating Desperado’s desires for him. He makes a slight noise as Desperado pulls out of him, somewhere between a moan and grunt. “Okay?” He asks softly. His arm slips under Hiromu’s shoulders. He rolls them over, and wraps his arms around Hiromu, holding him tightly to his chest. Hiromu tries to pull away, but Desperado won’t let him go. “Stay with me.” Desperado sounds almost shy. His arms don’t loosen, he pulls Hiromu close to his chest, holding him in place.

“The deal was to fuck me, not cuddle me.” Hiromu likes being cuddled, but only by Naito. He’ll endure other people holding him for a little while, but he doesn’t like it. Other people hold him too tight, or not tight enough, their arms in the wrong places, their fingers digging into him at awkward angles. Naito knows him, knows his body, knows how to hold Hiromu perfectly. He’s had a lot of practice, but he was always known how to touch Hiromu, even before that practice.

“Still…stay a little while.” Desperado shifts how he’s holding Hiromu. His hand slides through his hair, detangling the knots that formed during their encounter, which is nice. The hand around his waist is in the wrong place though.

“Move your arm.” Hiromu mutters, shifting against Desperado. He’ll stay until Desperado falls asleep. If he wants a room he should leave soon, so hopefully Desperado falls asleep quickly, and he can go to reception.

“Like this?” He moves his arm down, and Hiromu grabs his arm, putting it as near to the right spot on his back as he can. “Is this okay?” He must be referring to the hand moving through his hair. That he doesn’t mind. He does like having his hair petted like this. Desperado has thicker set fingers than Naito, but it’s okay. He’s not staying long, so he’ll endure the difference. He lies still, pretending to be asleep. Desperado’s fingers card through his hair and slow to a halt, the weight of Desperado’s hand is heavy but not bad. The arm around his waist shifts just a little, not quite where Naito’s would rest his, but it’s comfortable all the same.

Not comfortable enough to sleep though. He stays until he’s certain Desperado’s asleep, then leaves quietly. The elevator guy looks even more horrified to see him this time. He tries to engage Hiromu in conversation. He doesn’t get far. Hiromu stares him blankly until the man falls silent, sneaking little glances at him once more.

The reception area is deserted. The night clerk is nowhere in sight, but it sounds like there’s a commotion in the bar. Several night porters, and the clerk are hovering nervously at the door. Hiromu strides over, and nudges them out of the way. Slumped on the bar, looking like luck and the collective hope of the staff is all that’s keeping him on the stool is Taichi.

“Taichi! What an unexpected surprised.” Hiromu strides into the bar, and takes a seat beside the obviously intoxicated Taichi. “What are we drinking?” Taichi looks over at him blearily, wobbling slightly on his stool.

“They fucked already?” He offers his whisky bottle to Hiromu.

“Yeah.” Hiromu takes the bottle, and a long drink. “I held up my end of the deal.”

“Really? Fuck…that was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” Taichi takes the bottle back. “Fucking Despy…fucking _you_ , Takahashi! You and your dumb, pretty face.” The tone is accusing. Hiromu snatches the whisky bottle, and takes another long drink. “Did you fuck him bad this time?”

“I _never_ fuck badly, thank you very much.” Hiromu has another drink. Taichi snorts in amusement, and grabs for his bottle.

“So, you made the problems worse…fucking Naito. He passed on all of his shitty habits to you.” Taichi scowls at him, and reaches for the bottle again. “And you’ve got that stupid face.” He pokes an accusing finger at Hiromu’s cheek. “Should have stayed a squishy failure.” He almost falls off his stool lunging for the whisky bottle.

“You’ve had plenty, you sloppy mess.” Hiromu finishes the whisky, slides some money to the bartender, and hauls Taichi off the stool, ignoring his slurred protests.

The elevator man looks defeated, and judgemental. Hiromu gives him a cheerly smile, and shifts how Taichi is draped over him. He’s complaining about how annoying the rest of his team are, and how offensively pretty Hiromu is, which is a new insult on him. He’s been called many things over the years, but offensively pretty is different. The elevator man has taken to staring at the numbers. Hiromu doesn’t blame him. Taichi is a loud, ranting asshole.

“C’mon, asshole. What room is yours?” Hiromu flicks his nose, interrupting his rant about how the only person in Suzuki-Gun with any sense is Miho. Hiromu would dispute that, she’s far too fond of Taichi to be sensible. Taichi starts leading the way.

“You can have half the bed, if you want.” He looks pretty sober when they reach his room, almost like he was playing up being more drunk than he was, which Hiromu wouldn’t put past him really. Taichi is an awful human. “The reception’s gotta be closed by now.” He opens the door, and holds it open with a foot. “You coming in or not?” Hiromu glances up and down the corridor. To the right is Suzuki’s door, to the left is Desperado’s. Somehow, he’s unsurprised that Taichi is in the middle of a rock and a hard place.

“No groping me in the night, you drunk pervert.” He sweeps past Taichi, and collapses onto the bed. Tomorrow and the consequences it’ll bring can fuck off, he’s going to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> The last time I wrote a fic because the idea wouldn't leave me alone, I ended up writing the only Marty/Hiromu fic I know of...this time it's Despy and Hiro...


End file.
